


leader of men

by faerietell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bran is actually a gossip, Canon Compliant, Filling In the Gaps, Fix-It, Gen, Sansa is Queen, post-episode: s08e04, so technically could be, why didn't we get a reaction to the BIGGEST REVEAL EVER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 08:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18735388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faerietell/pseuds/faerietell
Summary: “I don’t want it, Sansa.”“It’s your duty,” she said and no more. She tightened her cloak and walked away. There was nothing more she could say that would bend his will. Jon was not a power-hungry man, but he was a dutiful one.Love is the death of duty.





	leader of men

“How can I promise to keep a secret if I don’t know what it is?”

“Because we’re family,” Jon breathed. That much was no lie.

Arya had always thought of him a brother. She had a little bastard in her too, and the North ran in her veins. Robb and Jon had taught her archery, and she ran wild in breeches until she was seven. Sansa was sweeter as a child, but she quickly learned from Lady Catelyn’s disdain. She had the same red hair, her mother’s countenance. But she was as North as any of them if not more. Brother.

He didn’t want to tell them otherwise. He didn’t want to be otherwise.

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” Arya replied immediately. 

Sansa paused, but her gaze was steady. “I promise.” 

He hesitated still. Arya had little interest in political machinations, but she was fiercely loyal to her family, to the North. And now he knew how deadly she was too. But she would keep his secrets. Jon’s gaze lingered on the thin sword that hung off her hip and knew a few must be an understatement of the lives she had taken. 

But all of them had blood on her hands.

Sansa worried him more because she was like Dany, even if neither of them wanted to see it. They were both rulers in their own right, and neither wanted to give up their claim. She was no child anymore, and he had been foolish not to see it until Arya pointed it out. Dany had wise advisors, old men who had seen the world crumble and fall time and time again. Jon had the woman who learned from them.

But they were family. He couldn’t hide it from them any longer. 

“Tell them,” he whispered, head bowing. 

 

Bran wasn’t Bran anymore. Not really. There were fleeting parts of him that were, the part that always longed to shut his eyes and become a raven, a wolf, anything that could run and walk. Sometimes he watched the high castle walls and remembered wanting. 

But he was the memory of this world, and he had an invested interest in what happened here.

“Rhaegar did not steal Lyanna,” he began. “They eloped in secret. He was in love with her. He would have made a good king.”

Neither Sansa’s nor Arya’s expression changed. His sisters were more alike him than his - well, not brother. 

“Lyanna had a child and died in the birthing bed,” he said. “She was beautiful. She looked like you, Arya. Ned Stark was the only witness, and Lyanna told him to keep it a secret. Promise me, Ned, she said.” He could get lost in this memory. “And he did.”

“He kept that secret his whole life,” Jon said.

Sansa said nothing, but Arya spoke up. “Are you… are you not Jon Snow?”

“My true name is Aegon Targaryen,” Jon admittedly heavily. 

 

Aegon Targaryen, Sansa repeated the name in her mind. Aegon Targaryen.

Elopement. Child. He was the heir to the Iron Throne, he had to be. He wasn’t a bastard, and he was the child of the crown prince. Danaeyrys was his aunt, and she was a woman. Her claim was far weaker than his.

“So you’re our cousin,” said Arya. 

“I… hope I can still be your brother,” Jon said, shoulders hunched. 

“Always, Jon,” Arya said. “I don’t care if you’re dragon and direwolf. You’re a Stark. That’s what matters.” She looked at Sansa then, expecting an agreement. But it wasn’t true, was it? Jon may have been raised a wolf, but it was the dragon blood that mattered now. 

“The throne is your birthright then,” Sansa said slowly. “The claim is yours.”

“I bent the knee,” Jon said. “I don’t want the throne.”

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t possibly understand. Only in power, only when Sansa had been the Lady of Winterfell, had she been safe. “You have to,” she said. “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what’s right for the realm. What’s right for us.”

“Do you really care about the realm, Sansa?” Jon sighed. “We just saved the realm.”

“Yes, I care,” she stepped closer. “Who do you think keeps the North fed? Replenishes our armory? Watches our coin? I do, and I can’t do that if I didn’t care about the North. About our people. Our people want you, Jon, and the rest of the realm would too, if you gave them the chance.” 

“Dany cares too,” Jon raised his voice. “She does. If you saw her like I did - ”

If Sansa was a foolish green boy, than maybe she could see her like Jon did. “You’re in love. I understand. Love makes wise men do foolish things, but you… You may be a Targaryen, Jon, but you’re all Ned Stark. You’re like Father.”

She glanced briefly at Bran. “Bran told me about the Kingslayer, sitting on the throne. Father found him first. What if he hadn’t taken the throne for Robert? What if he had taken it instead? He was a good man, and the realm would have been better for it.”

Jon was a king who didn’t want his crown. A man that didn’t seek power. Experience had taught Sansa that these things were impossible, that all men were greedy and all people sought the throne. Jon had always been different. His head bowed now, with the weight of his unwanted crown, of his birthright.

“I don’t want it, Sansa.”

“It’s your duty,” she said and no more. She tightened her cloak and walked away. There was nothing more she could say that would bend his will. Jon was not a power-hungry man, but he was a dutiful one.

 

Arya watched her sister leave.

It wasn’t like it had been only a few years ago. She was no longer Arya Underfoot, and Sansa was no longer innocent. They still argued, but they knew what came first: family. They knew what they had lost, and they wanted it back.

“She’s right, you know,” Arya caught his arm. 

“Isn’t it your duty then to be a lady?” Jon asked, softening. They had always been the closest. “I heard you turned Gendry down.” 

She scowled. “How did you know that?” 

Jon looked at Bran, and it was useless to be mad at Bran because Bran wasn’t really Bran anymore. “Using your weird powers to gossip is wrong,” she informed him anyway.

“A foretold reunion between the Starks and the Baratheons could be significant,” Bran said blandly. 

Jon and Arya exchanged smiles. “There you go. I’m foretold. You’re sleeping with your aunt.”

Jon grimaced. “You don’t have to put it that way.”

It wasn’t the Northern way of doing things, and it didn’t hold with the new gods or the old. But Arya had little faith in gods or men. She didn’t care if Jon tied blood ties with the Dragon Queen, but she cared for her family. 

“I suppose you are Targaryen too,” she teased. “I can hardly fault you for it.”

“It’s never stopped you before,” Jon said. He clasped her shoulder, meeting her eyes. “I am proud of you, Arya. I don’t know if I’ve said it enough. I wish… I wish I could have been there for you, but you did well.”

“We’ll have to spar sometimes,” Arya grinned. “I sparred Brienne, you know. She defeated the Hound.” 

“We will,” Jon smiled back.

Arya turned to leave before pausing. “Being a lady… that’s not my duty. I owe nothing to the realm. But you do. Your duty is to be a king. Birthright doesn’t matter. Who cares if you’re a man and she’s not? It’s that you’d be better. It’s what you’re meant to do.” 

“You believe in destiny?” Jon asked. 

“No,” Arya said. “I believe in choices and making the right one.”

She had faced the crossroads many times before. She had nearly gone to King’s Landing before she heard that Jon and Sansa were in Winterfell, but she had picked family first. There was time yet for her to kill Cersei. 

“How can seizing the throne be the right choice?” Jon asked, tortured.

“You are a leader of men,” Arya said. Arya was an assassin, a killer, a weapon. Sansa was no warrior like Jon, but she was a ruler too. A politician. They all knew who they were. “I’m going to talk to Sansa.” 

“Yeah,” he tried to smile. “Alright.”

 

Jon turned to Bran. “Will they tell anyone?”

Bran met his gaze. “You knew the answer to that long before you made the choice to tell them.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope the characters aren't too ooc i sort of just spit this out because i was dying to fill the gaps, and i hope you enjoy!!!


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